Sex, Secrets and South Beach (16 page)

"Bitch, please. This shit is the
hotness." Desiree dismissed the comment with a wave of her hand.
Leilani said nothing; she only raised an eyebrow.

"Anyway ... hat on?" Leilani twirled
in a circle. "Or hat off?" She removed the hat, then undid the bun
in the back of her head. Her hair cascaded down to her waist, and
she shook it out, running her fingers through the
length.

"Either way looks cool," Desiree
remarked dryly. She could care less how Leilani wore her hair or
rocked her brim.

"Yeah, I guess you're right. I look
hot either way."

Desiree rolled her eyes. She was ready
to get her smoke on, fuck all the bullshit.

"Where's the 'dro?" she asked
impatiently.

"Right here." Leilani patted her
matching white clutch purse and sat down on Desiree's white leather
sofa. "Gimme something to roll on."

Desiree went into her bedroom, then
returned with a wooden tray that was painted with the flag of the
Dominican Republic. Leilani pulled a small Ziploc bag out of her
purse and emptied its contents onto the tray. She took out a
Backwoods cigar and used her fingernail to lift the tobacco leaf's
edge, then unrolled the cigar. She dumped the tobacco into a paper
towel and crumpled it up.

"You got scissors?" Leilani asked.
Desiree went into the kitchen and returned with some
scissors.

"Why you always gotta make the shit
like surgery, Lani? You're Jamaican! You supposed to roll like a
pro," she joked.

"I do roll like a pro. I just like my
shit neat. Smokes better that way," Leilani replied. "I'm not new
to this; I'm true to this, youngster." Leilani rolled the blunt and
sealed it.

"Nuke this," she told Desiree, handing
her the blunt. "Seven seconds."

"What makes you think that I want to
touch a blunt with your wet-ass slob on it?" Desiree asked her, not
taking the blunt.

"You gonna smoke it, ain't you?"
Leilani rolled her eyes at her. She got up, went to the kitchen,
and put the blunt in the microwave herself. Seven seconds later the
microwave dinged, and Leilani sparked it. They passed the blunt
back and forth, allowing the effects of the herb to take over their
bodies.

"Save some of that for the ride over,"
Desiree told Leilani, and gathered her keys and purse.

They rode the short trip south of
Desiree's Surfside apartment to the trendy area of South Beach in
Leilani's red convertible BMW roadster. They rode with the top up
as they chiefed on the remainder of the lah, vibing to the sounds
of R. Kelly's TP-2 CD. When the track "The One" came on, Desiree
felt like he was singing her theme song. She peeked at her
reflection in the side-view mirror and sang softly, "There can only
be one me." The herb made her feel like he'd written the song
especially for her.

Once Leilani crossed Seventeenth and
headed toward the strip, she switched the music to a hardcore
dance-hall CD she had brought back from Jamaica on her last visit,
and let the top down on the Bimmer. As they crept down the
congested strip, sound system booming, Desiree and Leilani basked
in all the attention that they received. They looked hot, Leilani
in all white, Desiree in all black, in the red car.

They were the type of women that men
thought of when they thought of Miami: exotic, sexy, ready to
party.

"You ready?" Leilani asked Desiree as
they pulled up to the valet stand of Babylon.

"Let's do this," Desiree replied,
putting on a pair of rimless, smoke-colored Chloe glasses accented
with Austrian crystals.

They stepped out of the whip on a
mission, a modern-day, hip-hop version of Jackie O and Marilyn
Monroe.

L
eilani gave her name at the door, and they
were immediately admitted beyond the velvet ropes
and into Babylon. A door hostess gave them all-access wristbands
that would allow them to go into any VIP section of the club.
Leilani really had the hookup. Desiree usually only needed her
looks as her VIP pass, but it was cool to watch the second-rate
hotgirls covet her sparkling, silver, iridescent, plastic bracelet
in addition to the ice she sported in the tennis bracelet on her
other wrist.

South Beach's newest and hottest club
was filled with ballers. Babylon was overflowing with athletes,
rappers, singers, and actors who had come out to celebrate Bentley
receiving yet another platinum plaque. Leilani had told Desiree
that many of the stars would be making cameos in Bentley's video.
Leilani said the budget was astronomical due to a lot of special
effects that were going to be computer-generated and edited
in.

Outside of industry people, there were
the wannabes: the dudes who wanted to be rappers, the guys who
wanted to be producers, and the gold diggers who wanted to be
chosen. Though Desiree wasn't exactly a star, and had ambitions of
being a rapper, she knew she didn't fall into the wannabe category.
Unless you counted the fact that she wanted to be with
Bentley.

Desiree squinted and scanned the crowd
for a sign of Bentley. He wasn't difficult to spot. All Desiree had
to do was find the crowd with the most action. Dressed in a crisp
linen top and pants, he was popping open a magnum of champagne. He
looked paid and classy, but not in a stiff kind of way. There were
a ton of girls trying to get past Bentley's bodyguards so they
could spit their weak-ass game at him. Desiree figured game would
recognize game. She wasn't gonna have to say shit.

They made eye contact.

Bentley smiled at her, ignoring a
groupie tugging at his arm.

She needs to prepare to
step!
Desiree thought.

"Let's go over there," Desiree told
Leilani, gesturing in Bentley's direction.

"Okay," Leilani agreed.

Desiree licked her lips, then worked
her signature pout. Desiree possessed DSLs–dick-sucking lips–and
used them to her full advantage. Bentley's eyes narrowed into slits
as he checked her out. Desiree strolled slowly, confidently, and
deliberately sexy in Bentley's direction. Leilani followed behind
her as they approached the already crowded VIP section.

"It's full," a bouncer told them.
Desiree gave him a look like he'd obviously lost his mind. Didn't
he know who she was?

"Ayo!" Bentley shouted to the burly
man in the black suit from across the crowd.

"He's talking to you." Desiree pointed
in Bentley's direction. The bouncer turned around.

"Let her in," Bentley commanded. The
bouncer unhooked the velvet rope and allowed Desiree to pass, but
when Leilani went to enter, he rehooked it.

"Sorry, it's full," he told
her.

"I'm with her," she explained,
flashing her wristband for added effect.

"It's full," he told her again as
Desiree was engulfed by the crowd surrounding Bentley.

"Desi!" Leilani called out to her.
Desiree heard her but chose to ignore her.

"Desiree!" she called out again to
Desiree's back. "I know that bitch hears me!" Leilani growled as
she turned around and headed to the bar. She wasn't going to beg to
get in. She'd get her chance to holler at Bentley on the video set.
He'd see that she wasn't just a pretty face and would definitely
give her some play.

"Wassup?" Bentley reached
through the crowd
and gently but swiftly
pulled Desiree's hand, guiding her to his table.

"Hey," she said, smiling.

"You havin' fun?" he asked her,
smiling back, his deep dimples creating comma-shaped gashes in his
face.

"Yeah, it's a good way to spend my
birthday," Desiree mentioned casually.

"It's your birthday?" Bentley
said.

"It is now." Desiree looked at his
watch as if she were checking the time. What she was doing was
inspecting the stones in the iced-out bezel of his
watch.

"No shit. How old are you?"

"Old enough," she answered, blinding
him with a dazzling smile. Bentley swore he could smell her perfume
even though the club reeked of smoke and sweat.

"Damn, girl, you look good. You smell
good too. What is that?" He grinned at her, pulling her closer. He
nuzzled the crook of her neck, sending a shock through her system.
He was flirting shamelessly Desiree could sense the static from
pissed-off females coming at her from every direction. Bentley was
a big fish, and she wasn't wasting any time reeling him in. It
wasn't her fault they couldn't compete with her.

"It's from Creeds. I had it
custom-blended," she told him, allowing her body to graze
suggestively against his. "I like nothing but the best next to my
skin." She stared at him with her hypnotic hazels.

"I like the sound of that." Bentley
wrapped his arms around her curves. Desiree wanted to tongue him
down from head to toe.

"Happy birthday." He stared deeply
into her amber eyes.

Neither of them could deny the heat
between them. Desiree felt it in her gut. Fuck K.G., fuck all her
other sponsors. She had finally caught the big one.

"Let me get an Appleton Rum
and Coke. No, make it
a double," Leilani
told the bartender as she sulked at the bar.

Desiree had the nerve to get new on
her, and she wouldn't have gotten into the party without her. The
bitch! This was exactly why she didn't model anymore. The shit was
too cutthroat, and for what? To be the background for some nigga
makin' all the money, trying to get with some celebrity who isn't
doing shit but digging out as many girls as he can before he goes
back to his real woman. At least working behind the scenes, all the
real money men would take her seriously. She'd be the woman they
wanted to marry, not just fuck in hotel rooms and throw a few
trinkets to.

Leilani saw Ysenia Cruz at the other
end of the bar. She knew security was tight if Ysenia couldn't get
in VIP with Bentley. She paid for her drink and tipped the
bartender. Leilani didn't mind paying for her own drinks. At least
that way she could enjoy them in peace instead of being stuck with
some loser who thought she owed him her evening because he had
spent a lousy eight bucks.

Ysenia headed toward Leilani. Leilani
knew that Ysenia couldn't stand Desiree, and she wasn't feeling too
keen on her at the moment either. A bitch session
brewed.

"What's up, mama?" Ysenia greeted her
with a fake smile and hug.

"Hey, lady," Leilani greeted her back,
equally phony.

"Who you here with?" Ysenia asked,
like she didn't know the answer.

"I was here with Desiree, but she's up
there all in Bentley's ass," Leilani remarked sourly.

"Hmph. So that's how she got the lead,
huh?" Ysenia's voice dripped with accusation.

"Nah, he didn't have anything to do
with picking the girls," Leilani replied. She was mad, but she
wasn't about to go talking shit about Desiree with
Ysenia.

"Whatever! Bentley shows up to watch
her audition, then she gets the lead. You think that's coincidence?
I mean, come on! Desiree is a ho," Ysenia said.

Leilani didn't argue. The last thing
she felt like talking about was Desiree. "You been up to VIP?" she
asked, changing the subject.

"Yeah, girl, I was up there earlier
before it got so crowded. It was too hot, and there were too many
groupies," Ysenia explained.

Leilani was really pissed now. Would
everyone but her get to kick it high post and sip champagne with
Bentley? She frowned. "So what's he like?" she asked, her jealousy
showing.

"Kind of stuck-up. He knows he's all
that. He might be gay, though," Ysenia said.

"Why you say that?" Leilani asked with
a raised eyebrow.

"Because he didn't even try to holler.
It was like I was invisible," was Ysenia's cocky answer. Leilani
thought to herself that Ysenia was even more vain and conceited
than Desiree.

Speaking of Desiree, Leilani peeped
the VIP section, curious as to what she was up to.

"Well, he's definitely not gay,"
Leilani told Ysenia, pointing toward Desiree and Bentley hugged up
and looking extra cozy.

Ysenia dropped her martini glass,
causing her bright pink cosmopolitan to splash Leilani's white
suit, as she caught Desiree and Bentley sharing what looked like a
very passionate kiss.

"Son of a bitch!" Leilani shrieked.
Could the evening get any worse?

"Sorry" Ysenia giggled, obviously not
sorry at all.

A few hours and a few
magnums of Cristal later,
Bentley and
Desiree snuck off for a little private time in the backseat of his
trademark black Bentley Arnage. Once he'd kissed her, she knew
there would be no use in playing it demure. She was going to fuck
the hell out of Bentley, and she was going to put it on him so good
that he'd never even think about the next bitch.

Desiree shivered as he kissed her neck
and slid his hand beneath her top. She arched her back and allowed
her hand to travel from his chest to his crotch to inspect the
package.

Damn, he is the big
one!
Desiree mused.

"You want that?" He groaned
seductively as she caressed his bulge.

"Mmm-hmm," Dez purred. "But I want it
the right way."

She kissed him sweetly on the lips and
smiled at him. Then she slithered down his body like a snake and
began to tease the tip of his penis with her warm tongue. Bentley
moaned and arched his hips to meet her mouth. Desiree continued to
tease him.

"I don't want to be just another bitch
to you. I wanna be that bitch." She gave his shaft a lick and
watched his dick grow even longer and harder.

"Shit, as far as I'm concerned, you
are that bitch," he managed to utter as she slowly, torturously
slipped more and more of his throbbing cock between her
lips.